


Alone Together

by littleoptimistme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Brotherhood, Character Death, Dean is a Little Shit, Depression, Family Drama, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Gen, Gen Fic, Human Castiel, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Nephilim, OC little girl of mine, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Gabriel, Sam Is So Done, Wingfic, Wings, Worried Bobby Singer, Zachariah (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Zacharial can suck on some angel steel thanks, angel!dean, angst for days my fellows, because i forgot tbh, because obviously, castiel and depression, dean has grace while castiel now doesn't and basically they hate themselves im sorry, dean is still a little shit about this, dean meets jesus lol, death is sassy af, death still loves pizza, did i mention i am in love with wings, her name is piper and she is my favorite, hopefully that won't strike you dead, i spell Cass with 2 S's, ish, its temporary, not in a wheel chair, season 4, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleoptimistme/pseuds/littleoptimistme
Summary: When worthy humans die, at the discretion of the Creator, they are sometimes given an 'upgrade'. With the angels gunning for the showdown between Lucifer and Michael, Dean's upgrade is suddenly rushed, and Castiel, in a catastrophic accident, is rendered merely human.“We’re idiots, Sam. It worked that way because…Because, I’m the angel.”Did he just hear him right?“Me. An angel. That’s all.”Sam blinked and cocked his head. “You’re a- you- you’re a what?”Dean kept going. Now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “That’s why I don’t feel tired and hungry, why I can see demons’ faces and your eyes were glowing, and I knew when people were lying. I was looking at your soul, Sam. I was looking at all of their souls, and I didn’t realize it."





	1. Sucker for Pain

Dean knew. He freaking knew something was wrong the moment he opened the trunk of the car. He paused and glanced back at the building to see the tail end of Cass’s coat entering through the door down the path that led from the road to the building. Well good. At least he showed up. Sometimes Dean didn’t really know the guy. With pursed lips, he bent down and rummaged through the elaborate array of killing devices they had stashed under a flap. It took iron to kill a witch. Even a witch that somehow knew how to work magic on angels. Fancy-schmancy magic, his butt. It was still a witch. Iron it was.  
He took up a handgun already loaded with iron bullets and an unusual iron knife. Good.  
Already nervous, he, jogged back to the building and entered with baited breath.  
It was empty. They must have gone upstairs. Dean cursed quietly. Why didn’t Sam and Cass wait for him? Holding the gun with practiced ease, Dean crept up the stairs. It was silent. Too quiet.  
The old apartment building was in long disuse. Wallpaper peeled off the walls and littered the ground like petals, and parts of the piping were exposed for the world to see. It smelled like mildew and smoke. Dean made no noise as he reached the second floor. Empty. The blow out windows littered the floor with glass shards, and outside, Dean could see a thunderstorm threatening to break them. He waited for a second and then perked up when he heard a thump above him.  
Cursing, he cocked the gun and jogged to the next flight of stairs. Sammy’s voice drifted through the ceiling. “You idiot! That’ll kill every-” His words cut off and were followed by another large thump. Deans blood boiled. He hated witches. Nasty, stupid, experimental creatures, every one of them.  
He reached the third floor, which was blocked off by a wooden door, and entered. Empty again. Growling in frustration, he kept on going. How many floors did this building have anyway? He could hear voices clearly now, but every staircase only revealed another empty room. What was going on? Was this some sort of magick the guy had going on?  
A sudden sound had him frozen for half a moment and fear thudded in his stomach. Cass screamed again, and it set Dean off, faster and faster up the never ending stairs. Cass didn’t make sounds like that. No one as powerful as him should ever make a noise like that. The angel screamed something garbled and this time Sam’s voice joined his in protest. “Stop! Stop, you’re going to kill him!”  
Furious, Dean fiddled with the trigger and cursed his own stupidity. He’d just given a power hunger, angel abusing witch fresh meat.  
For the first time, the witch spoke up. He had a low, silky voice. “Just one feather, little boy. One feather and I’ll stop.”  
Feather?  
What kind of idiot was this guy?  
Another staircase. Another door. Another empty room. Another staircase.  
“I can’t,” Cass spoke. “Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!”  
“I’ll make you. I’ll just take it away.”  
Dean’s eyes widened. He had no idea what that meant but given Cass and Sam’s instant and terrified protests, it didn’t take a genius to figure out it wasn’t good.  
Growling, Dean slammed his shoulder against the door. To his shock, it opened to finally reveal the top floor. His relief only lasted a moment, however, as he took in the situation. The witch was grinning maniacally. Sam was pinned to the wall across the room with magick and Cass...  
Cass was in the middle of a slowly tightening circle of holy fire.  
But that wasn’t even the worst part. Some sort of symbol hung in the air. Cass doubled over beneath it with a groan, and the witch was busy in the middle of a complex sounding incantation. The wind screamed outside, and the air was heavy with electricity. Castiel’s gaze whipped up at Dean’s entrance and instantly filled with dread and fear. No, not fear. Terror. Castiel was terrified. Oh gods, what was being done to him?  
“Dean!” Sam screamed from the wall. He had his hands slammed over his ears. “Close your-”  
But it was too late. Before anyone could make any more movements, the room suddenly erupted into light.  
It was so bright and intense, there was no way Dean could have avoided it. He dropped his weapons, suddenly paralyzed, and distantly registered the sound of glass shattering. But that was before a mind numbing sound overwhelmed him. It climbed into his ears like whips of fire, and his own screaming joined the screams of the angel.  
I’m going to die, he thought disjointedly. I’m blind and deaf and paralyzed and dead.  
And then.  
Why am I not dead yet?  
He couldn’t close his eyes.  
In his terror, he managed to feel a sense of confusion. He could see something. Some shadow within the light. The shadows arched up, and it took only a second to realize what he was seeing. Wings. Those were Castiel’s wings. They wavered and broke and disappeared, sucked into the light.  
The noise became even louder, and Dean finally managed to cover his ears. He screamed in agony as it seemed to go on for eternity.  
Then, all at once, it stopped.  
The floor flew up to slam into Dean’s face.

 

Sam Winchester had experienced some pretty horrible things, but that did not prepare him for the horror he felt when he realized what the witch was going to do. He was going to force Castiel to reveal his true form. And it was going to destroy the angel.  
Not to mention anyone nearby.  
The moment the room exploded into light, the magick holding him to the wall disappeared and Sam slammed into the ground behind a table and sufficiently far from the blast that by curling up and keeping his eyes shut, he had some hope of actually get out of this without permanent injury.  
The same could not be said for the witch, Castiel, or Dean.  
His heart thrumming faster and harder than it had in a very long time, Sam curled up on the floor and refused to think about what had to be happening to Dean.  
Dean. Dean. Dean.  
He was dead. He had to be. Castiel had killed him.  
Sam tried to move but couldn’t.  
All at once, the light cut out. The room was deadly silent and so dark in comparison Sam stumbled more times than he could count in his mad dash toward Dean’s side.  
His vision came back a bit with a few rapid blinks, and Sam spotted Dean on his face. His heart plunged. God, please. Please don’t let this happen. He fumbled with shaking hands to his brother’s side, knowing that he had to be dead. He pleaded out loud but couldn’t hear his own voice. There was no way Dean could have survived that. The witch, who had been directly in front of Castiel, was nothing but a pile of ash. Sam pushed Dean over, only to jerk back in shock.  
Deans eyes.  
If anything, Sam had expected they would be nothing but gaping holes. Singed. Dead.  
Instead, they glowed bright with an intense blue familiar to the light Castiel had been expelling only a moment before. However, the light faded an instant later, and Dean’s eyelids fluttered shut. Sam took his pulse quickly. The steady, if a bit slow, beat had him sobbing in relief.  
Dean was alive. He was alive. Sam had no idea how but he wasn’t going to question it.  
“Dean, wake up. Say something, Dean.” He held his head gently. Sam’s voice sounded like it came from underwater. But he wasn’t blind or deaf so he’d take what he got. Dean frowned and shifted but otherwise didn’t respond. Unconscious. Okay, okay. That was okay. He could deal with that.  
Realizing he’d forgotten about the other member of their little suicide squad, Sam laid Dean carefully onto the floor and got to his feet shakily. He blinked and squinted, trying to spot the angel.  
There.  
Hands in front of him, Sam walked until he got to Cas’s side. The holy fire had blown out in the explosion, and the Angel was curled in a ball on the floor, his coat seeming to swallow him. He looked smaller in some way Sam couldn’t identify. He checked for a pulse and found a weak one. But he was alive. Which was more than he expected. Relieved, he tried to unwind his friend, but Castiel wouldn’t move.  
“Cass. Cass, buddy, can you hear me?”  
Castiel shivered and blinked open glazed eyes. His look of pure devastation was so strong it rooted Sam in place. “De-”  
“He’s okay,” Sam assured him quickly. “Dean’s alive. I don’t know how but- but he is.”  
The angel relaxed considerably. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head. Panicked, Sam shook his shoulder. “Cass! Cass, don’t do that. You need to stay awake.”  
But the angel just groaned, his head lolling. Shoot.  
Sam’s mind spun rapidly. What should he do now?  
He should take them somewhere safe. Somewhere they could recover.  
Bobby’s. It wasn’t that far from here anyhow. Two hours at the most. Quickly, Sam scrambled to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Dean under his arms and started to drag him toward the door. He managed to get open the door and froze in surprize when he stepped into the evening air.  
He blinked confusedly at the building.  
The many stories must have been a trick of the witch. There was only one story in the old house. Relieved he wasn’t going to have to drag Dean down half a million staircases, he dragged him to the Impala, softly apologizing when he bumped the man’s head. After managing to stuff him into the passenger seat. He ran back inside, paused dizzily at the door, and went back inside again. Castiel had not moved. He shivered and his hair was wet with sweat. That was not typical angel behavior, Sam knew. He dropped down next to him, suddenly exhausted.  
“Cass, I can’t carry you,” he croaked. “You need to get up.”  
The angel’s eyes flicked open. They darted around the room, obviously not seeing anything. He was still asleep.  
“Cass,” Sam tried again. His vision was steadily returning, and he noticed for the first times, burns on the man’s wrists and neck. A result of the spell, no doubt. After what seemed like forever, Castiel managed to shift into a half sitting position.  
“I killed him,” he croaked. “I killed him, didn’t I?”  
Sam shook his head and helped him to his feet, taking most of the man’s weight on his own shoulders. Cass slumped but managed to put one foot in front of the other. “You didn’t kill Dean, Cass. He’s alive.”  
Cass’s gaze clouded with confusion. He blinked slowly, and they made it out of the door and onto the gravel driveway. “It’s so… quiet,” he said softly. “In my head.”  
Sam frowned, his head ringing. What was he talking about? He opened the backseat door and Cass crawled in. He fell unconscious immediately, and Sam hoped he didn’t roll off if they stopped quickly.  
Shaking his head, he nervously got into the driver’s seat and checked Dean’s pulse again. Still alive. Just not awake. Taking in a shuddering breath, Sam turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Bobby would know what to do, Sam told himself. Bobby always knew how to fix situations like this.

 

Bobby Singer was having a pretty darn fine day until the phone rang. He had a beer, a nice fire in his recently cleaned out fireplace to battle the autumn chill, a comfortable chair, and an ancient text that actually made some sense. A fine day.  
But then of course his cell had to ring. With a sigh, he flipped it open, noting the caller ID, and put it up to his ear, frowning.  
"This is Bobby Singer. Something wrong, Sam?"  
Sam's voice came spilling through the phone so quickly Bobby was a bit disturbed he could even talk that fast. "Slow down. You're gonna eat yer tongue if you go on like that... Who's hurt... Uh huh. What? What kind of crazy idjit... Okay. That's fine. And Feathers?... Shouldn't he just heal?... Oh. Alright, I'll get out the first aid... Witches. Greedy pain in the- alright. How far sure you?... Uh huh. See you in twenty minutes."  
He hung up and cursed. He closed his book and got up to fetch whatever he could think might be helpful. Sam said Dean wasn't hurt, just unconscious, but he doubted that was entirely true. A person didn't just stand in front of an exploding angel bomb and not suffer consequences. He got out an on-hand, basic first aid kit, and then thought better of it. He dug into the back of the bathroom cupboard for a more extensive one. Sam said Cass was hurt and not healing, which didn't spell well. Bobby had no idea how to fix up an angel. Hopefully, it wasn't much different than a human.  
He spent the next fifteen minutes stewing in a pool of nervous energy. When he finally heard tires on the gravel, he shot up and out the door.  
Sam unfolded out of the driver's seat looking like death himself. His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed, and he stumbled a bit into Bobby.  
"Srry, Bobby," he slurred. "Imma bit dizzy. Think it messed my ears up."  
Bobby snorted, irritated that Sam hadn't mentioned his own obvious ailments on the phone. Instead of scolding him it, he opened the front door and the side door. Dean appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Castiel, on the other hand, shivered violently. Bobby grunted, recognizing the priority. "Help me get 'im inside, Sam."  
Sam followed orders, and they both half-dragged, half-carried the angel into the house. Dropping him as gently on the couch as possible, Bobby swiped is brow and frowned worriedly.  
"Go get Dean."  
Sam left. He was obviously a bit stunned. Bobby didn't blame him.  
Cass moaned and thrashed, the red burns on his neck and wrists standing out starkly. His hair was soaked, and his forehead beaded with sweat. Without further hesitation, Bobby set to work. He stripped the angel of his outer coat and then his suit coat. He unbuttoned his shirt and, seeing there were no injuries on his chest, moved to the kitchen to get some ice. It was obvious he was suffering from an extremely high fever, but Bobby had no idea what caused it. The burns certainly would not do such a thing. While obviously painful, they would not provoke a reaction like this.  
No matter. The fever needed to be broken.  
As Sam came struggling inside and fumbled up the stairs to the guest bedroom with an unconscious Dean, Bobby wet some hand towels with cold water and set to attempt to cool the angel down. He used some cream on the burns and continued bustling about, occasionally muttering profanity.  
A few minutes in, Cass's eye flashed open. Bobby noted his severely dilated eyes, and then Cass grabbed Bobby's arm and spoke rapidly and desperately in a language Bobby could not understand. He recognized the sounds, however. Enochian.  
"You've got 'bout thirty languages you could speak in, idjit, that I'd understand."  
Castiel's brow creased in confusion. He met Bobby's gaze, but a moment later, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  
Bobby tapped his face gently... And then less so when he did not respond. "Balls... Sam! Where are you?"  
"Here." Sam came stumbling down the stairs. He looked down at Castiel with concern. "What's wrong with him?"  
"Best I can guess, he's got a heck of a fever, and he's probably in shock. Overheated? He don't seem to know where he is."  
Sam blinked. "He shouldn't- that shouldn't be possible. He's an angel, Bobby. Angels don't get fevers."  
Bobby glared at him and picked up the wet, now very warm rag off of Castiel's forehead. "Are you gonna argue or help?"  
"Sorry." Sam took the rag. "What do you want me to do?"  
"Get me some cold water and a thermometer."  
Sam rushed from the room, tipping as he walked, and Bobby thought to himself he needed to check Sam as soon as he got this situation handled. The angel murmured again, this time in English. "Dean. Where? Where's... Got to help-help-"  
"Dean is asleep upstairs," Bobby assured him. Although, he didn't think Castiel could hear him. This was confirmed when Castiel continued to speak.  
"Sam. Sorry, Sam. Sorrysorrysorry...."  
Bobby sighed, and Sam came back in with the water, more washcloths, and a thermometer. He frowned down at Castiel, who had slipped into Enochian again.  
"What's he saying?"  
"I haven't the foggiest. Gimme that thing." He took the thermometer and quickly took the angel's temperature. He grunted. "105. He don't cool down soon, and we might need to throw him in a bath..."  
Sam nodded.  
The next several hours were stressful, to put it lightly. Eventually, Sam fell asleep sitting backward in a chair when Bobby went to check on Dean.  
He entered the guest bedroom, complete with two beds. Dean lay on one, still unconscious, but looking no worse for wear. Bobby frowned, confused. This made no sense. If Dean was in front of Castiel when he went up in flames like they said he did, he should be a husk. Burnt out eyes. Bleeding ears. Reduced to ash, even.  
But there he was, breathing deeply and easily. He looked asleep.  
Bobby wasn't complaining, but... what on earth was going on?  
Bobby grabbed a quilt out of the closet, spread it over Dean, and then frowned at him. Strange.  
Curious, he manually opened one of Dean’s eyes and then the other. Besides staying asleep, he looked normal. His eyes were not even dilated like his feathered friend downstairs. Now, Bobby only had to worry whether or not he'd wake up.  
Something thumped on the first floor. Bobby sighed wearily and tromped back down. At the sight of Sam, asleep at his post, Bobby smiled a bit.  
He came up behind him and tapped his shoulder gently. With a yawn, the younger Winchester opened his eyes again and sighed.  
"How's Dean?"  
"Still asleep."  
Sam nodded sleepily, and his eyes slid down to Castiel. "His fever's gone down."  
"Good." Bobby pulled up his own chair and sat. "You look like you've been through a meat grinder, Sam. I'll watch him. Go sleep."  
It was proof of how exhausted he really was that Sam only nodded in response and did as he was told. He paused at the base of the stairs and his brow furrowed. "Something strange happened when I got to Dean, Bobby," he said quietly.  
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Besides him not being roast beef?"  
Sam glared at him but was too tired to put any venom in it. "His eyes. They were glowing."  
Frowning, Bobby crossed his arms. "Are you sure? You were probably half blind at the time."  
Sam considered this but shook his head. "No, I know what I saw. It was..." He paused and pursed his lips. "I dunno what it was."  
Bobby waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, he looked pointedly at the stairs. "Go rest, idjit."  
Sam complied.  
The silence stretched and thickened like taffy. With a sigh, Bobby scrubbed his face and considered the strange young man asleep on his couch. Or... He supposed he shouldn't call him young.  
For now, mysteries could wait.  
As Castiel's breaths evened out and the night grew longer, Bobby took out his book and sat it in his lap. It wasn't like he was going to get any sleep tonight. He might as well lose himself in the ancient knowledge this book offered.


	2. Say Something

# Say Something

“If you are looking for inspiration, you should know that book is entirely heretical and the man who wrote it tried to be a politician and priest at once.”  
Bobby’s eye flicked up to the angel on his couch and grunted. He closed a Latin version of Divine Comedy and raised an eyebrow. “Nice to know.”  
Morning had come and gone and noon was well on her way. Outside, a butt ugly sky gave the scrap yard outside a gray, washed-out tinge. With a sigh, Castiel blinked bright blue eyes at him and sat up slowly. He was wearing a white t-shirt of Deans that Sam had fetched after his other shirt was soaked through and the same pair of pants. He groaned and pinched between his eyebrows.  
“Where’s-?”  
“Sam is in the other room, and Dean is still asleep.”  
Cass nodded. He ran a hand through his hair, and it stuck up oddly. He frowned. “What happened?”  
“You exploded.”  
“Ah. That… would do it.” His eyes glazed as he attempted to recall. After a moment, he paled. “Dean was right in front of me. He should be-”  
“He’s not,” Bobby interrupted. “Idjit won’t wake up. But other than that, he seems to be fine.”  
Castiel cocked his head. “That is not possible.”  
“Yur tellin’ me.”  
Behind them, the screen door slammed, and Sam’s heavy footsteps announced the younger Winchester’s presence. He entered, and his face lit up marginally when he spotted Castiel sitting up. “Cass! You’re awake.” He snagged a chair and sat down backward on it. Sam was looking much better than the day before. Color had come back to his face, and his eyes were no longer dilated. Sam had told Bobby that his ears were still ringing, but in Bobby’s books, that was getting off lucky. Sam took a bite of an energy bar that certainly had not come from Bobby’s fridge. “How’re you feeling?”  
Castiel considered this. He opened his mouth to respond and then stopped, confused. The confusion quickly turned to panic. His hand drifted up to his neck. He touched the burn lightly and winced. “It’s gone.”  
That paused them. Sam blinked. “What’s gone?”  
Castiel didn’t respond. Instead, he looked around wildly and grabbed a letter opener, which happened to be sitting on the table next to the couch. Before either man could respond, he sliced his palm. Crimson welled up in a long, thin line, and Castiel stared at it in horror.  
Meanwhile, Bobby cursed and snatched the knife from the angel. “You idjit! What are you doing!” He grabbed Castiel’s hand a pressed one of the washcloths against it. The blood stained it red, and Castiel continued to stare at it, appalled.  
“It hurts,” he whispered.  
Sam, who had reacted similarly to Bobby, turned on his friend. “What?”  
“It hurts,” Castiel repeated.  
His words finally sunk in, and Sam’s eyes widened. “That… that means… What does that mean?”  
His shock fading, Castiel pulled away from Bobby and stared at them blankly. “My Grace… it’s gone.”  
“Gone? How is that possible?”  
A spark of irritation and Castiel snapped a reply. “That was the purpose of the spell. It wasn’t to kill me, it was to destroy my Grace.”  
Bobby and Sam exchanged shocked glances. Destroy Grace? They’d never heard of such a thing.  
“Well, it explains the freakin’ fever.”  
“That means you’re human,” Sam spoke up.  
Castiel nodded just barely. He rubbed his thumb across the cut, and his frown deepened. They knew his Grace had already been depleting since he’d been cut off from Heaven (such were the consequences of choosing the Winchesters over the Apocalypse) but he’d still had a significant amount. Now, it was apparently… gone.  
Bobby’s face hardened, and he grabbed Castiel roughly by the shoulder, forcing him to look in his eyes. “Don’t you ever go do something like that again, ye hear me?” He pointed at his sliced palm. “You try to cut yourself without a good doggone reason, and I will kick yer sorry arse into next week.”  
Castiel smacked his hand off, eyes flashing. “I can take care of myself, old-”  
“Woah, Woah.” Sam got in between them and pushed Castiel, who had halfway risen, back down onto the couch, “Cass. Dude. Calm down.”  
Bobby knew misplaced anger when he saw it. The angel was taking out his fear on the first person in front of him. It was nothing personal. All the same, Bobby wasn’t gonna cut him any slack. He crossed his arms and sat down with a glower.  
Cass, meanwhile, was fighting between what appeared to be intense irritation, confusion, and guilt. He took a deep breath and settled on guilt. “My apologies. I… don’t know what that was.”  
Bobby grunted and waited a suitably long time before sighing. “Yeah, well, whatever.” He cocked his head and decided he forgave the guy.  
Sam watched them carefully and took a final bite of his energy bar. He frowned thoughtfully down at it. “Are you hungry?” he asked Cas.  
Cas’s brow creased as he considered this. “I do not know.”  
Slowly, Sam nodded. “Right. I guess you wouldn’t. Um, how about… Bobby?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Is there any food in the fridge?”  
Bobby shrugged. “You could probably make a sandwich.”  
Crumbling up the bar wrapper and stuffing it into his back pocket, Sam stood up and extended a hand to Castiel. Castiel stared at the hand and then up at Sam. “Come on, Cas,” Sam said. “I’ll teach you how to make a sandwich.”  
Cass considered this before nodding and taking his hand. There was an intense sadness in his eyes that the angel could not quite hide. They stood, and Castiel trailed after Sam into the kitchen. He was obviously shaky on his feet, but Bobby admired his stubbornness. They disappeared around the corner, and Bobby rolled his eyes. A few years ago, if someone had told him Sam Winchester would be teaching an angel how to make a sandwich in his kitchen, he would have shut them in a nut house.  
Through the door, Castiel’s voice drifted. “Why do I need to know how to do this?”  
“Because I’m not going to make your food all the time, and if you don’t know how to make something you’ll probably try to eat cinnamon and paprika on balloni or something.”  
“Those are all editable, are they not?”  
Bobby chuckled. But after a moment, the chuckle turned into a frown. There was still someone missing from this equation.  
His gaze drifted up the stairs where Dean was asleep. Worry wrapped around his chest. If he didn’t wake up soon… Bobby wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Sam was distracting himself with Castiel, which was fine, but that would only work for so long.  
“Dude.” Sam again. “Slow down or you’ll choke…” There was a muffled response and then, “Guess you were hungry...”

 

Cass sat down in an arm chair next to Dean’s bed, winded and irritated by the fact that he was winded. It was a single staircase.  
He was having a hard time keeping track of days, but if Sam and Bobby’s faces were anything to go by, this was an abnormal amount of time for a human being to sleep. He started sitting upright in the chair, but eventually, the position tired him, and he slumped back to watch the man sleep. Dean’s chest lifted and then compressed, and Castiel cocked his head sadly.  
“Dean,” he whispered softly. “Dean, you should wake up now. You’re making Sam worried.” And me. You’re worrying me.  
Dean did not respond.  
Cass sighed and kneaded between his eyes. He’d had a headache for days now, but it was getting better slowly. Which was something. The quiet didn’t help. Silence. In his head. He had no idea what his siblings were doing, and he thought that the disconnect was probably the worst part of this situation.  
And Dean. Sleeping on the bed.  
Everything about being a human was so impossibly slow. Slow and difficult and complicated. Even his reactions were more complicated. There was a sense of uncertainty Castiel had felt in part, but never like this before. He could not think of a question and arrive instantly in front of someone who had the answer. He had to work to understand. Every emotion was heightened and more irrational than Castiel had expected, and he’d found himself snapping at both Sam and Bobby for reasons he could not even recall now. It was… frustrating.  
He’d refrained considering the consequences of this turn of events in regards to Lucifer and the oncoming Apocalypse. He was now wonderfully useless.  
Rolling away that unpleasant thought, he sighed down at Dean again. Leaning forward, he touched him lightly on the forehead. “You know, before, I could have done that and known exactly what was wrong with you.”  
Dean did a wonderful impression of a wood post.  
Talking to an unconscious person was irrational, Castiel decided. After a long moment, Cass stood suddenly. A wave of dizziness rushed through him, and he hissed in irritation, grabbing onto the armchair to keep himself upright. He rubbed the empty feeling spot just beneath the burned ring on his neck.  
They told him he was just recovering. He wouldn’t feel like this forever. It felt like forever. And that’s coming from a creature that had existed since the dawn of time.  
Or maybe impatience was just another one of the human emotions he’d recently acquired.  
The only aspect Cass could think of that would make this situation bearable was currently unconscious.  
“Please,” he said aloud. “Please wake up, Dean.”  
Something shuffled behind him, and he turned slightly to behold a tired-looking Sam. He leaned against the doorpost, eyes on Dean. “We shouldn’t worry, Cass. He’s gonna be fine.”  
“When?”  
The Winchester swallowed thickly. “Soon. He has to.”  
Castiel desperately wanted to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review!


	3. Chapter 3

# Tell Your Heart to Beat Again

There was no gradual waking up. No feeling his fingers and toes and then slowly opening his eyes to a blurry, half-lit room. Oh, no.  
Consciousness hit Dean Winchester like a train wreck.  
He jerked up with a shout and fell to the floor, tangled in the blankets. His heart beat in his throat, and he was certain something horrible had happened. He just couldn't remember what.  
Panicked, Dean scrambled out of the blankets and took to his feet. He glanced around the room and spotted a shoe on the ground. Picking it up, he hoisted it.  
Okay, so it wasn’t his best weapon but he would make do.  
He started out of the room, his bare feet making no noise on the hardwood floors.  
At the doorway, Dean paused, and logic seeped into his panicked brain. He blinked and suddenly recognized his surroundings.  
Bobby’s. He was at Bobby’s house.  
How the heck did he get here?  
He looked down at himself, realizing he was wearing some of the pajamas he and Sam had packed in the Impala, and Dean relaxed marginally.  
Cautious, he crept down the stairs. He skipped over the stair he knew had a nasty creek, and followed the sound of low murmurs coming from Bobby’s living room.  
“I’ll go check,” said a familiar voice.  
As someone came around the corner, Dean raised the shoe reflexively.  
It was Cass. ‘Sept this Cass was different. For one, he wasn’t wearing the same clothes he always wore and was instead clad in a loose blue t-shirt and jeans Dean was pretty sure came out of his closet. But there was something else different Dean couldn’t quite place.  
Cass stood there in the doorway, obviously shocked. “Dean?” he finally managed. “You’re awake. You’re okay.”  
Before Dean could respond, he was suddenly tackled in a fierce hug by all one-hundred and sixty pounds of the angel he’d come to call a friend. He stiffened in surprise. “Um. Hi, Cass.”  
Cass took a step back quickly, and they separated. He looked slightly embarrassed. “My apologies, Dean. Sam has taught me I do not have to act as my emotions might dictate, but I find this difficult to put into practice.”  
Dean blinked. “Uh, what?”  
Suddenly Cass noticed the shoe in Dean’s hand, and his eyes squinted in suspicion and maybe a bit of humor. “Were you going to hit me with that?”  
Dean dropped the shoe. “No.”  
“You’re lying,” the angel stated matter-of-factly.  
Before he could get a response, Sam ducked into the room. His face lit up (“Dean!”) and Dean was wrapped in yet another hug.  
“Okay, okay!” he protested. “What is with all the friggin hugs? You guys are acting like I was at death’s door.”  
Sam groaned and stepped back, and Dean noted the very real relief on his face. Castiel wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. “Death does not own a door, as far as I am aware, but if he did-”  
“You were asleep for nearly a week,” Sam interrupted.  
Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Why? What happened?”  
“You don’t remember?”  
“No. Where’s Bobby?”  
Sam nodded toward the room behind them. “Asleep in there.” He raised his voice. “Bobby, Dean’s awake!” He turned back to Dean and looked him over with concern. “Are you alright? Nothing… weird?”  
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Eh… not that I know?”  
“Oh. Okay, good.”  
“...Yeah.”  
They walked into the living room, which was cluttered with books and bits of papers. It was clear that someone had been sleeping on the couch recently. Bobby, who was asleep at his desk, rubbed open his eyes and smiled. “About time, you idjit.”  
Dean sat down carefully in a kitchen chair. There was something… wrong about this situation. What was going on? Something in the air. Something in the energy of the people around him. Different. Outside, a storm crackled and spit irritably and cast a variety of mutated shadows across the cluttered room. Cass brushed past him, grabbed a bag of chips and collapsed onto the couch with a grin. Dean blinked.  
Sam followed inside and glared at the angel. “Dude. Those are mine. If you want some, go get your own.”  
In response, Cass supplied the sassiest look Dean had ever witnessed on the man and got up, apparently to get his own bag of chips. Dean’s wide eyes trailed after him. He finally turned to Sam, questions clear on his face. “Um,” he whispered. “What is wrong with Cass?”  
Sam winced. He opened his mouth to respond, but Cass came back in with his food of choice. He shook the sealed bag, turned it over, shook it again and then glared at it irritably. He looked up, seeming to feel their gazes on him, and his eyes met Dean’s. He cocked his head. “I am extremely relieved,” he said seriously. “That the destruction of my Grace did not render you comatose or deceased.”  
Dean’s mouth dropped open. He automatically glanced at Sam for confirmation of what he’d just heard. Sam nodded. Thunder rumbled.  
“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Destruction of your…”  
Suddenly, it clicked. His clothes. The chips. The comment about emotions.  
Shoot, Cass even moved differently.  
“Holy crap,” Dean breathed. His eyes zipped up and down his friend, who shifted awkwardly. “You’re human. He’s human, isn’t he?”  
Bobby nodded.  
Castiel sighed dramatically and dropped back onto the couch. His finger fiddled at the base of his neck unconsciously. “There is nothing holy about excrement, Dean.”  
Dean ignored that comment. “How did that happen? You can’t destroy Grace.”  
Sam frowned at him. “You really don’t remember? The witch? Anything?”  
Dean thought back. What was he doing before he woke up?  
Slowly, a spark of memory caught his attention. It grew into a flame, and he recalled the light. The blue light. And something else… He shook his head. “A witch shouldn’t have power like that.”  
“I thought so as well,” Cass answered. “I believe he may have acquired information from other sources. Secrets even I did not know…”  
“Who knows secrets about angels that you don’t know?”  
“The archangels, for one. Lucifer is another.”  
Oh, yeah. Dean often forgot that the devil was actually a fallen angel. “Why would they tell a random witch?”  
Cass shrugged. “I do not know. It is not a move I would anticipate from Raphael or Michael, which makes me think it was probably Lucifer looking to cause mayhem. Which he has.”  
Sam sighed and rested his elbows against his knees. “Do you remember anything else, Dean?”  
Dean thought about it. “Wings,” he said solidly. Cass’s attention was suddenly razor sharp. He cocked his head.  
“You saw my wings?”  
“I don’t know. That’s what they seemed to be.” Dean racked his brain. “They… they disintegrated.” As he spoke, horror filled him. They’d disintegrated.  
Now the angel (or, er, former angel) looked distinctly uncomfortable. He chewed his cheek. “Yes,” he said quietly.  
It hit Dean all at once how agonizing that must have felt. “Gods, Cass.” He studied his friend’s face, but Cass had covered whatever he was feeling with a very blank expression. He may not understand angels completely, but Dean got the idea that wings were treasures. Gifts. They were as a part of them as an arm or a leg. And more than that, they were a manifestation of their Grace; the essence of their being and the source of their power.  
And some freaking witch had stolen that from his friend. Memories of the time Dean had spent in the future with a very broken, very human Castiel came bubbling to the surface. He could picture the man’s manic grin perfectly. It was seared into his mind.  
That won’t happen this time. I won’t let it.  
“So help me,” he growled. “Sammy, if that witch hasn’t been pumped full of iron-”  
“The last I saw him,” Sam interrupted, “he’d been reduced to a pile of ash. He was right in front of Cass when it happened.”  
Bobby’s eyes widened at this new bit of information.  
And Dean found he didn’t have the slightest bit of sympathy for the guy. He simmered. The room was quiet but for the rain pattering on the metal roof of the porch. Cass’s voice hit the air.  
“It’s alright, Dean,” he said wearily. “I was already cut off from Heaven. This was an inevitability. It was just… quicker than I expected.”  
Dean grunted and crossed his arms. It was not alright. He was about to say as much when a thought occurred to him. He frowned in confusion. “If the jerk was nothing but sandbox filler… how the heck am I alive? I wasn’t that much farther behind him.”  
Silence met these words. Dean cocked his head waiting. The three men glanced uneasily at each other. “Seriously? No ideas?”  
“It is completely illogical,” Cass offered unhelpfully.  
“A miracle,” Sam murmured.  
A miracle. Dean frowned. “We’re not in the business of getting miracles.” He reflexively adopted a doubtful expression.  
“There don’t seem to be an explanation, Dean,” Bobby put in. “And it ain’t like this is the first time.”  
Dean knew exactly what he was referencing. After Sam set Lucifer free, they should have died in the blast of power. But, just like now, they had been miraculously saved. He mulled this over, eyes on his hands. He wound his fingers together and chewed on his lip. He didn’t like this. These random miracles. It did not sit well in his stomach, and he really didn’t want to owe anyone anything. “Well,” he said eventually. “What do we do now?”  
Numerous shrugs.  
Cass attempted to open his bag of chips again. He spoke simply and confidently. “I suppose you keep on doing what you always do. Saving the world.”  
Dean smiled a bit. Watching Cass struggle with the bag turned the smile into a smirk. He stretched out a hand and took it from him after a moment. He pulled open the bag and handed it back to Cass.  
“Alright,” Dean said softly. “That’s what we’ll do, then.”

 

After tossing for an hour or so, Dean sat up and ran a hand through his hair. The moonlight spilled through the curtains and washed over Sam. He was fast asleep with his hair splayed over his eyes. They were sharing the bedroom and Cass was in another one across the hall. There was an air of calm and peace that covered his little brother, and Dean found himself remembering the times he’d watched Sam sleep when they were younger.  
When Sam was maybe ten (which would have made Dean fourteen?), Dean remembered taking him out to an old tree house he found in the forest behind their current school. They’d been in Utah. Sam went on and on about the comet lights that were supposed to rain down that night and how sad it was they couldn’t see the stars from inside the motel room. The light pollution was too great in the city.  
Dad was gone for more than a week with another hunter and there was nothing stopping them.  
“Are you sure, Dean? What if-?”  
“Don’t be such a wuss, Sammy. I promise you’ll like it.”  
They got in the Impala, left behind by Dad this time, and threw some sleeping bags in the backseat. It took about thirty minutes to reach the school, and when Dean showed Sammy the treehouse, the kid’s face was worth the punishment he might receive if Dad ever found out they did this. Sam babbled about stars and comets and things Dean had no idea about as he scrambled up the ladder. Dean threw up the sleeping bags and then climbed after him. They spread the bags out and lay on their backs, the sky open and wide before them.  
Sam gestured wildly and pointed out the constellations he’d learned about in astronomy class, and Dean squinted up at the little lights.  
“Hey, Dean?” Sam whispered.  
“Hmm?”  
“Thanks.”  
Dean smiled inwardly, glowing with satisfaction. On the outside, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever, princess. This is better than staying in a motel all night.”  
“Yeah... Oh! Oh, Dean, did you see that? I think it's starting.”  
Soon, shooting star after star danced across the sky, streaking white light across their upturned faces. They gasped and pointed and laughed, and, after a while, they were silent, just watching. “You should make a wish or something, Sam,” Dean said with a bit of a smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to do something like that?”  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”  
“Then do it.”  
Sam thought. Finally, he nodded in a decision. “I wish… this.”  
Dang. The kid knew how to tug his strings. Dean proceeded to say something obnoxious and a bit rude, but on the inside, he was content. There were not many times Dean could say he was truly content.  
After a while, he looked down at Sam to see the ten-year-old kid asleep, Dean’s arm as a pillow.  
Dean smiled at the memory. He hadn’t thought about that in years. He’d forgotten he used to do stuff like that with Sam.  
He stood up from the bed and stretched his back.   
Fine. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well do something productive. Dean was about to head downstairs when Sam moaned. Dean paused and turned.  
Sam gasped and tangled in his sheets, and Dean pursed his lips. They both had their fair share of nightmares, and Dean knew there was a little chance he could wake his little brother up. He’d tried before on other nights.  
All the same, Dean walked quietly to Sam’s bed and shook his shoulder gently. “Sam,” he whispered. “Sammy, wake up.”  
He had no effect. Sam’s brow furrowed, and he breathed rapidly. What was he dreaming about this time? Sam wasn’t really nightmare prone (unlike himself) and only got them after something particularly grimy they’d pulled through. “Sam,” he tried again. This time, he swiped the hair out of Sam’s eyes. To his surprise, his brother calmed beneath his touch. His breath evened, and his expression smoothed.  
Dean raised an eyebrow. Huh. Alrighty then.  
He took a step back, and, when Sam continued to sleep peacefully, Dean shrugged and walked out. Whatever works, right?  
He walked quietly down the stairs, fetched a beer from the fridge reflexively, and opened the screen door to step into the chill outside. It was cold and a bit wet, but, to be honest, it didn’t bother him all that much. He pushed himself up onto the porch railing and stared into the night. His feet dangled above the gravel, and the shadows of the piled scrapyard looked distorted and unusual in the darkness. Like the ruins of an ancient city.  
He took a swig of the bitter liquid and frowned when he didn’t feel the usual buzz that accompanied alcohol, no matter how small. He rolled his eyes and took another drink.  
Productive. Right. This was being so productive.  
He drank the bottle and stared thoughtfully out at the world that was probably going to end soon if they didn’t do something about it. Another swig.  
As he sat there, staring out at nothing, time seemed to lose meaning. What felt like seconds later, he was aware of the sun slowly rising. The air took on the gray tone of the morning; crisp and new. He inhaled deeply and moved for what had to have been the first time in hours. He rubbed his eyes and dropped the bottle into a dew-covered planter full of weeds under his feet. Brushing himself off, Dean was surprised to see dew had settled on him as well.  
Dean frowned. He must have fallen asleep. Balanced on the railing.  
He hadn’t felt asleep. Time just sort of… slipped. But that was probably the alcohol. That made sense. He’d drunk and fallen asleep and somehow managed to stay on the friggin railing.  
Shaking his head, Dean stretched and hopped down. To his surprise, his muscles didn't ache. As the occupants of the house began to stir, Dean entered the house quietly and sat down at the kitchen table to read a newspaper Bobby had laid out.  
As he read, Dean’s eyebrows rose.  
Well. If that wasn’t suspicious, he didn’t know what was.  
It looked like they had a job. Dean smiled a bit.  
Back to work. As Cass said, keep on saving the world.  
For the first time in a long time, Dean couldn’t wait to start. Something was different in the air. It tasted sharper and crisper. Like it was waiting for him.  
Dean wasn’t sure exactly what was different, but he liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! Thank you for reading and thank you to anyone who responded!


	4. Somebody That I Used to Know

When Sam came stomping down the stairs, he yawned, ran a hand through his tangled hair. Figments of a fading dream drifted through his mind like spiderwebs in the wind. It had been a good dream, he thought. Dean was there. They lay on their backs looking at… something.  
Whatever.  
He stopped in surprise to see Dean awake and dressed at the kitchen table. His brother was not usually a morning person.  
“You’re up early,” he noted. He sat down at the kitchen table with him, and Dean shrugged. He had a strange distance in his eyes Sam did not know how to describe. After a second, his brother shook himself out of whatever he’d been thinking and tossed Sam a bag of gas station powdered donuts. “Breakfast.” He smirked at Sam’s disapproving look.  
Sam opened the bag and ate one of the mini donuts. Trying to appear like he wasn’t, he watched his brother carefully. For any sign.  
He wanted to take this ‘miracle’ at face value and be grateful Dean was alive (and he was grateful, extremely), but something irked him in his gut. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he knew it.  
After a second, Dean’s green eyes flicked to Sam’s. He frowned through a mouthful of donut. “Dude. Stop staring at me.” Although, it sounded more like Du’. Sawp sarin’ ah meh.  
Apparently, Sam wasn’t as discrete as he thought he was. He rolled his eyes and tugged over a newspaper Dean had in front of him. He read it quickly and cocked his head. “This is a job. You want to do a job right now?”  
Dean shrugged and swallowed the donut with a grimace. His knee bounced energetically. “These are disgusting. Remind me to never getting donuts from that station again.”  
Sam just raised his eyebrows and waited for an answer to his original question. Eventually, Dean licked the power from his lips. “Why wait? I feel fine.”  
“Yeah, but Dean-”  
Dean groaned. “Sammy, come on. This is clearly possession of some type, and it’s not like evil crap is gonna wait politely until we’re ready to hunt it down.” He started to pick up another donut, but thought better of it and put it back down. His knee continued to bounce. “And besides, I’m gonna jump out of my skin if I don’t do something.”  
Sam nodded slowly. O...kay. “Alright. Fine. If you’re sure you’re up to it.”  
“I’m sure.”  
Sam spun the newspaper completely toward him and read aloud. “Kindergarten teacher, Mary Drew was arrested this morning after she was caught in the act of locking children in cupboards and fetching them after hours. Three of the kidnapped children have been found with serious blood loss. The four others were found dead in her forest cabin just a few hours later… Wow. Uh… vampire? Vampire teacher.”  
Dean shook his head. He pointed down farther on the article. “She apparently doesn’t remember anything that has happened in the last month.”  
“Demon.”  
“Or ghost possession.”  
“That’s not a long-term thing.”  
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it’s a sticky SOB.”  
Sam snorted with a smirk. He nodded. Alright. They could swing back into this. It was better than sitting around waiting for the world to end.  
“Where’s Cass?” Dean asked with a frown.  
“Asleep, I think.”  
“Ah.”  
Sam chewed his lip as a thought occurred to him. “He’s got a really weird sleeping schedule, Like, he just falls asleep in the middle of the day sometimes, or he’ll stay up almost all night and crash.”  
"He probably is waiting until he's exhausted before giving in."  
Sam hummed in agreement.  
They fell into comfortable silence until Dean chewed his lip. "How is he? Like, this whole thing has got to be..."  
Sam nodded somberly. "Honestly? I don't really know. Sometimes he seems okay. Like last night. He helps Bobby translate something and reads and is all curious about everything. But," Sam grimaced. "then some days he gets this blank look on his face and he'll just stare at his hands for hours. Won't eat or sleep or talk or move. He flicks back and forth totally randomly." He gave Dean a look and lowered his voice. "It's not like I didn't expect it, but it... I'm still worried about the guy.”  
And now Dean was as well. More than before. Dean pursed his lips as Sam continued. Sam sat back in his chair and ran a tired hand over his face.  
"He's this ancient being but I don't think he ever had emotions, real emotions, before this. So he ends up with the logic of someone a bazillion years old and the emotional control of a ten year old. It's... jarring."  
Dean sat back as well and drummed his fingers on the table too. "Huh. That's... Huh."  
"I have no idea what to do with him."  
"Have you tried 'talking' to him?"  
Sam nodded his head, resigned. "Yes. But he just clams up. I've been waiting for you. I think you'll have more luck than me."  
Dean frowned. "Why the heck would I have more luck than you?"  
Immediately, Sam gave him a 'seriously?' look. "Dude, we're talking about the same guy right? This is Cass. 'Dean and I share a more profound bond' Cass."  
Dean snorted at Sam's imitation, and a grin managed to wriggle out from beneath his worry. "That was the gayest thing I've had a guy say to me, and he doesn't even realize."  
Sam snickered. The conversation hit a lull, and after a moment of comfortable silence, Sam exhaled a long sigh. "I'm gonna go get dressed so we can go figure out this teacher lady."  
Dean murmured his agreement, and Sam could feel Dean's gaze following him across the room and up the stairs.  
In the hallway upstairs, he paused and looked back down. He could just barely see Dean in the other room from this position. His brother was leaning forward with his elbows on the table. One hand nervously tapped out a beat Sam couldn't hear, and the other one he wrapped around the back of his neck.  
He looked perfectly fine. Totally normal.  
Sam relaxed. He was being ridiculous.  
Dean was fine.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Castiel cocked his head at his reflection. He ruffled his wet hair with his hand and squinted at himself.  
His eyes were so blue. Remarkably so.  
Before, he hadn't really taken the time to notice the appearance of his vessel. It was unimportant.  
Sometimes he forgot what he was now.  
This was no longer a vessel. Jimmy Novak was in Heaven, and Cass was stuck with this form. There was no chance he would ever see his own face again. This realization left an empty pain in his chest. He didn't know what the feeling was called but he felt it a lot lately. Funny how emotions were physical sensations.  
Sighing, he looked away and exited the bathroom dressed in another pair of Dean's jeans (Dean and him were almost the same size but Sam said they'd need to get him clothes of his own soon) and a dark green shirt (also Dean's).  
He walked down the stairs and followed the sounds of the other humans in this house. Bobby Singer’s house. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he entered the living room. Outside, Sam was busy getting something from the Impala. Was he going somewhere?  
An irrational spark of fear slipped through him, and Castiel suppressed it with an eye roll in his own expense. This was getting pathetic. He was getting pathetic. There was no need to be afraid of them leaving. It was an inevitability, Cass supposed. The logical course of action. They were hunters and certainly did not want to stay at Bobby's forever.  
Yes.  
Castiel chewed his lip.  
Before he could start considering what that would all entail, Cass sat down in one of the worn arm chairs and picked up the book he'd been reading before Dean came tumbling down the stairs with a shoe as a weapon the night before.  
His book was some novel about wolves and dog fights and snow, and Cass had never read a novel before. He'd glimpsed parts of them, but never had time to sit and read cover to cover. Which was strange since it was only now that his time was limited.  
What had he been doing the eternity before now?  
Cass found over the last week he enjoyed reading. He enjoyed books and stories and the wonderfully complex people humans managed to make, no matter how unrealistically happy they ended up. He did not have the faintest idea how humans managed it. It was creation. From their own minds and abilities. He didn't think any other creature was capable of such a thing. Including angels.  
Perhaps he could learn this skill.  
He heard the familiar gait of his friend and considered not looking up. He'd make leaving easier on the both of them and just ignore Dean.  
"Hey, Cass."  
Or not.  
"Dean." He looked up and gave the man a small smile in spite of himself. Dean was good. Dean made sense. He was solid.  
Alright, so he didn't always make sense, but he usually explained himself, which no one else took the time to.  
Dean looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. "Um... are you coming or what?"  
Cass blinked.   
His brain rushed to catch up with what he's just heard. "What?"  
"We've got a job down town-ish. Figured you'd rather help than layin' around here all day."  
Cass processed these words. Humans were complex, he knew. Words could not always be taken at face value. Did he mean what he said or was this a courtesy; the type to be politely declined? Cass had no idea.  
He settled on a middle of the road response. "Dean, I am not a hunter," he said matter of factly. "nor do I have any real uses at the moment. I will just get in the way."  
Dean Winchester was the first human Castiel had had more than a passing conversation with, and he thought he understood Dean to a decent degree. The man's response still surprised him. He snorted and gave him a look. "Cass, I want you to come with or without wings. Besides, you hang around a house too long, and you'll melt into the furniture."  
Castiel highly doubted he would do any such thing, but the reassurance overcame his confusion. He cocked his head and decided Dean appeared to be sincere. He realized he hoped that he was. It was more difficult to discern intentions when all he could see was the man's face. His soul was locked away somewhere Cass knew he'd never glimpse again.  
So when Dean held out his hand, Cass shut his book and took it. He hoisted him to his feet and then looked Castiel up and down.  
"Are those mine?" He gestured to the clothes Cass wore.  
Cass nodded. "Yes. I hope you do not mind."  
Dean shook his head. "No, it's fine. Just weird to see you in normal clothes. We should probably get you some of your own stuff when we're in town."  
"I would appreciate that."  
With that, Dean smirked, slapped him on the shoulder playfully, and started for the door.  
Cass trailed a bit uncertainly after Dean and decided he did not really understand Dean at all.  
Uncertainty. That wasn't a new feeling. It was just much more difficult to swallow now.  
He hesitated on the porch as Dean said something to Sam. Sam got into the passenger seat of the Impala, and when Dean opened the driver's side door, he raised his hands in question. "Dude, come on. Monsters aren't gonna kill themselves!"  
That was an much an invitation as any. Deciding he could only assume Dean was attempting to be kind, Cass crunched down the driveway and ducked into the backseat of the car.  
The doors shut, and Dean revved the engine. Cass couldn't see his face but he could picture the grin that must be on it. "Aw, I missed you, Baby," he said with a laugh.  
Sam rolled his eyes. "You're such a freak."  
"Shut up. You're just mad cause she loves me better, jerk."  
"I doubt the automobile is capable of emotion," Cass inserted dryly as they turned around in the scrapyard.  
Dean just swatted at him. "Shhh, you'll hurt her feelings."  
And Cass found himself capable of a smile. He shifted in the back seat as they took to the main road. "So... What exactly are we doing?"  
"Fill him in, Sam," Dean said, his hands on the wheel.  
In response, Sam turned around in his seat and tossed Cass a newspaper. "So, there's this insane kindergarten teacher..."  
For now, things were alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Thinking Out Loud

Dean re-tied Castiel's sloppily done tie with a smirk. "There. Let's do this." Then he noticed it. A small frown tugged at his lips, and he pulled down Castiel's collar to reveal the stripe of slightly raised skin. The ring was about the thickness of his pinky and would probably leave a scar when it healed. "Jeesh, Cass," he breathed. "Does that hurt?"

Castiel shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Yes. But it will heal."

His jaw tightened angrily. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "No."

"Liar."

"My wrists, but those are nearly healed now."

A sliver of guilt worked its way under Dean's skin, and he dropped his hands. This is my fault. He'd been the one to call Cass for as backup. He'd been the one to send him up there alone. And look what that witch did to him.

Cass didn't seem to notice the sudden change in demeanor. He frowned down at the tie. He was wearing an extra one of the suits they had stashed in the trunk. Sighing, Castiel loosened the tie, and his fingers brushed again across the spot at the base of his neck. It appeared to be a new habit of his. "I don't think this is a good idea, Dean. I-"

Dean pushed his thoughts away and gave him a sudo-serious look. "No. Don't do that. Just copy me, and you'll be fine."

Castiel mulled over this and nodded.

"Good." Dean nodded sharply as well and started across the street. They were in a little town with a name Dean had already forgotten. It was about two hours away from Bobby's, Ancient trees lined the streets, littering the ground with golden leaves. The smell of bread drifted from a local bakery. A beautiful place to live, Dean noted. Although, it was strange to smell something so good when you were about to enter a morgue. Dean wasn't hungry, but both Sam and Cass had glanced at the source of the smell when they exited the Impala. Across the street, someone was setting up a local carnival complete with a Ferris wheel, a haunted house, a merry-go-round, and several clowns. Dean smirked at it. "We should chuck Sam in there."

As Dean and Cass crossed the road, Sam, who was already inside, pushed open the glass door and gave them a tight smile. Next to him stood a portly, balding man in a lab coat. An M.E., Dean reasoned. He fished out his fake badge with ease and tried not to look at Castiel as Cass fumbled to do the same. They entered the building, and Dean adopted a persona he'd been donning on occasion for years now.

"I am agent Jovi, and this is my partner agent Degraw. I see you've already met agent Vance."

The M.E. rewarded this announcement with a disinterested eyebrow. "Uh huh. Look, no offense, but I don't see what's got the FEDs involved. The woman is locked up. Kids are in the hospital-"

"Sir, we are just following up as we were told to by our superiors," Sam interrupted in a calm but firm voice.

A grunt. "Fine. You want to see the bodies, I assume?"

Three nods.

With a sigh, the man turned around and waddled (like seriously, waddled) toward the door. He gestured for them to follow, and Dean tugged at Cass's sleeve to get him moving.

They entered the morgue, and the M.E. rolled out three bodies. Children.

They stared. Two boys and a girl. No older than ten.

The reason for the M.E.'s grumpiness was now apparent. He was upset about these deaths.

Adopting a suitable solemn air, Dean approached the body of the little blonde girl. She had cuts across her neck and body. "Cuts were done by fingernails," the M.E. grunted. "And teeth. Crazy monster. How could someone do something like this to children?"

Cass, who was looking down at the body of the girl with distinct sadness, spoke up. "We believe the woman who did it was possessed by a demon."

The M.E. blinked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"He's kidding," With a glare in Cass's direction that Cass didn't see or ignored, Sam pulled the sheet off the face of one of the little boys. "Although some kind of satanic ritual does not seem far off..."

The M.E. nodded and then sighed. "If you guys need me, I'll be in the other room. The girl's aunt is going to be here to identify the body."

They all murmured their consent and were silent until the door clicked shut behind.

Dean looked up and gave Cass a look.

"What?"

"Dude, you can't just tell people the truth."

Castiel's eyes bounced between the two of them. He cocked his head. "Why not? Shouldn't they know?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, but without proof, you'll just seem crazy. And that's not going to get you where you need to go."

Cass gave a slow nod as he worked that out. "Then what do I do?"

"You lie."

"How do I do that?"

Dean sighed and pinched between his eyes. He covered the girl and made his way to the door. "You just don't say what's true, Cass. There's nothing we can see from these. Come on."

As he exited, he caught a distinctly irritated grumble from the former angel, and he smirked. Alright, so they'd work on the lying thing. As they passed through hallways which smelled like lemon perfume and were covered with wallpaper of the same color, someone's voice met Dean's ears. He paused on the tiles and held up a hand to stop Sam and Cass behind him.

"T-that's her," a woman said with a sob. Dean frowned and carefully nudged open an old door on the left. Inside the room, a large window looked out into the morgue, where the girl's corpse was. The M.E. said nothing, hands clasped behind his back. Next to him, a young blonde woman's shoulders shook as she stared rigidly at, presumably, her niece.

But something wasn't right. There was this air of... smugness? The woman was not as broken up by her niece's death as she appeared. Dean squinted suspiciously.

"Dean," Sam whispered from behind him. "What is it?"

He pursed his lips and pulled the door shut. "Lady's a liar." With that, he turned on his heels and left, leaving Sam and Cass to catch up with him. Which they did a moment later, exchanging glances.

Dean pushed open the front door and started down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

"What do you mean, Dean?" Cass asked.

What did he mean?

"She was just... I dunno. Murky, I guess." There were no words he could think of to accurately describe the darkness that seemed to hang around the aunt. Dean fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the driver's door of the Impala. Sam gave him a raised eyebrow. "Look," Dean drummed absently on the roof of the car with his thumbs. "You do this long enough, you get an instinct about these things. Trust me, the aunt is mixed up somehow." That's what it was, surely; a hunter's instinct.

Sam shrugged, apparently trusting him. "Alright. I'll check her out." He ducked into the car.

Cass attempted to do the same, but had trouble with the handle, to Dean's amusement.

He chuckled. "You pull it."

Cass glared at him and opened the door. "I have it, thank you."

Dean got in as well and revved the engine. All three of them were much more subdued than they were entering the morgue. The death of a child was not something taken lightly. It was sick and anger swirled in Dean's stomach.

"So... we check out killer lady's cabin next?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded, hands tight on the wheel. "Let's gank this creep."

They parked the car down the dirt road near an old, wooden cabin that was slightly slouched. The forest buzzed and hummed around them and birds fluttered out of a tree when they drove up. As they walked up to the house, Castiel shoved his hands deep in his pockets and studied that back of his companions' heads absently.

It was disconcerting not knowing who was human or not at a glance. Cass was accustomed to simply seeing the souls of everything around him. And souls were very telling and very bright.

Now, they were relying on facial 'cues', smells, sounds, and a bit of intuition.

He didn't like it, and he didn't think he was very good at it.

All the same, it was Castiel who first smelled sulfur. The cabin where the police found the children, both dead and alive, was roped off with caution tape, but no one was there anymore. Castiel asked about this and Sam had explained to him that there was no need to keep anyone here. The murderer had been apprehended and the kids saved. It was just a creepy house now.

What am I doing? Cass thought to himself. He wasn't a hunter. Why were they taking him along again?

Sighing, he followed instructions and searched the perimeter for anything suspicious while Dean and Sam went inside past the caution tape. There was nothing out here. Nothing he could see.

As he searched for, as Dean put it, anything weird or bloody, his mind wandered.

He didn't like wandering thoughts. They almost always ended up places they were not supposed to be and thought things they should never think. He wondered what his garrison was doing now. They had mostly broken up after he left, but he knew Balthazar was still out there somewhere... Benjamin? Bartholomew? Where did they go when Castiel chose the Winchesters over Heaven? Benjamin was still young, in comparison to himself and the other originals. He was one of the angels who was upgraded when he died a long time ago. Most of his garrison had been made up of those upgraded souls, actually. Most angels didn't like them, because, after all, they used to be 'dirty apes'. But Castiel had found they possessed an ingenuity many original angels lacked.

A rotten smell got Cass's attention, and he untangled himself from his thoughts. He wrinkled his nose. Where was that smell coming from? He followed it behind the house and into the forest.

Nothing. Everything was quiet and normal. But it smelled like rotten eggs. Was that what sulfur smelled like to humans? He thought so. So where was it coming from?

He took a step forward and stopped. The ground was different here. Hard. Kneeling, Cass brushed away the dirt and leaves to reveal a metal cellar door. Now he was getting somewhere... With a grunt, he heaved up the massive thing. A putrid smell wafted out of it, and he nearly gagged.

He took a deep breath, and then descended the stairs into the old cellar.

Everything was red at the bottom. The walls. The floor. The ceiling.

Red.

Castiel was relatively certain it wasn't paint. The smell of sulfur was overpowering. Some demon spent a lot of time down here. His stomach curled in disgust. Demons were disgusting. Horrific.

He should tell Dean about this. He flicked his phone out and pressed one of his two contacts.

"Find something, Cass?"

Cass nodded and remembered Dean couldn't see him. "Yes. It is definitely a demon. I found a cellar out back that absolutely reeks of sulfur and... other things."

Dean cursed softly. "Alright. We'll be out in a sec."

"Oh, and Dean-"

Castiel would have said something more, but suddenly his phone flew from his hand and shattered on the concrete wall.

Castiel froze.

Was it here?

He was very aware all at once how fragile humans are. A single snap, a pinch in the right place, and there; you're done. Slowly, Castiel turned around. In the doorway stood an unfamiliar man with a nasty word tattooed on his forehead. He smirked, and his eyes flicked black.

"Now, what have we got here," the demon purred. "A nice little treat. I do love order-in."

He took a step down, and Castiel drew his sword. The demon raised its eyebrows. "Where'd you get a sticker like that, hmm? Pawn shop?"

"It's mine," he growled. He lunged for the thing, but the demon stopped the blade in the air before it touched him. He shifted his hand, and Castiel blanched. The sword turned slowly toward Cass, who struggled to drop it. The demon stuck out a pouting lip. "I don't think so, sweetheart."

The blade edged closer and closer to his throat. Dean! Get out here, Dean!

Suddenly, the demon dropped to the ground with a thud, and Dean appeared behind it with a grin. He hefted a log from a pile of wood behind the house. "I can hear you, Cass. You don't have to shout."

Cass dropped the sword to his side in relief. Before either of them could move, however, the demon twitched and black smoke flew out of its mouth, above the trees and away.

Dean glared after it irritably. "I hate demons."

"I share your sentiment." Cass tucked his sword into a belt loop and clambered out of the cellar. Dean took his hand and hefted him out the last bit of the way.

"You okay?"

Cass scowled. "I'm fine."

Dean only answered with a smirk. "Yeah, right. You were practically screaming for me to come and save you."

With a cock of his head, Cass wondered, was this a human 'saying' he'd yet to come across? "No, I wasn't. I am not a child, Dean."

Before Dean could reply with a suitably cheeky and obnoxious response, Sam jogged around the corner. "Sheesh, Dean. Where'd you go? What happ-? Oh." He stopped before the dead meat suit. "So… definitely a demon."

"Yep. Cass was an idiot and tried to take it on by himself."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Cass, demons are powerful creatures. You can't just do that."

Cass knew the anger brewing in his stomach was irrational. He found he did not care all that much. "I am well aware of the power of demons. It was not my intention to be attacked from behind."

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder. "Come on, you baby. We're going to creepy aunt lady's place next. Figure out what the demon is doing here."


	6. Guns in my Head

"Cass, you know I'm not patronizing you, right?" Dean looked up and down the burger joint's menu critically.

Cass glanced up from his menu with a blank look. "What do you mean?" He and Castiel were seated around a table just a block or two down from the house of the crazy aunt. The blue and green themed restaurant was filled with pops and sizzles from the kitchen. Pop music played in the background.

Dean shifted in his seat. "I know you're a warrior and a good one, human or not. You've been around a heck of a lot longer than the rest of us. I didn't take you along because you… I don't know. We took you because we could use the help, and you're our friend."

Cass considered this. A flash of irritation went through his eyes. "I wasn't much help, though, was I?"

Dean snickered. "Well, hunters do things differently. You have to get used to it. It's like, you're used to being a Redcoat and now you've got to be a colonist."

Cass blinked as he digested this metaphor. "A red… coat?"

Dean nodded. As it turned out, he had paid minimal attention in history class. Especially when it had to do with warfare. "Yeah, a Redcoat. All guns and bang and bright colors and straight lines and battalions. That sort of fighting only works in some situations. When you're on the bad side of, like, everything, you can't just… you know, charge blindly at a demon without expecting it to stop you." He gave Cass a look, to which the angel received with a carefully blank face. He nodded slowly as if he understood.

It was fairly obvious Castiel had no idea what he was saying. Dean sighed. It was a start. "Alright. Never mind. Let's get back to the demon. We know demon creep likes messing up kids. So... we find someplace with lots of kids, and catch it."

Cass nodded. "Where do children congregate?" He looked down at his own menu. "Also, what is the purpose of 'deep frying'?"

"Just get a burger," Dean closed his own menu with a snap and glanced out at the window irritably. "Sam was supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

"Maybe the interview ran long."

Dean gave a noncommittal hum. "Okay, seriously, though. If you were a demon who targeted kids, where would you attack?"

Cass squinted in thought. "I would go somewhere where there is lots of children and minimal supervision. Probably somewhere dark and crowded?"

Dean clasped his hands on the table. Was there some place that met those requirements? He racked his brain and came up empty. Dean sighed, and a pretty girl with red hair and dimples approached their table.

Well. At least they had a hot waitress.

"Welcome to Billy's Home Burgers," she said to Cass. "Are you ready to order?"

Castiel blinked "Or...der?"

"Your food?" She smiled at him, and Castiel's brain seemed to finally catch up.

"Oh. Right. Food." He told her quickly what he wanted, and the woman turned politely to Dean. He smirked on reflex, to which her smile only became more strained. Okay then. No action.

"I'll, um, I'll have whatever he just got."

The woman nodded, jotted onto her notepad, and left with a flick of her hair and a parting look in Cass's direction. Dean snorted. Glancing confusedly at him, Cass drummed his fingers absently on the table. "How long does it take for the food to get here?"

"It's not instantaneous if that's what you think. Probably ten minutes."

Castiel stared. "Ten minutes? Everything always takes forever down here."

Across the room, a bell chimed, and Dean glanced up to see his brother's enter with a thoughtful look. He waved, and Sam walked over, pulled up a chair, and sat down.

"So?" Dean asked in a low voice. "What's the word?"

Sam just looked at Dean. Studied him, actually. Finally, he chewed his lip and spoke. "Turns out, niece lived with her aunt for three years after her parents died. Aunt was supposed to inherit some money from her sister, but ended up just getting custody of the niece."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Ouch, okay. I'm guessing she wasn't happy about that."

"I talked to aunt and poked around a bit. The girl and the aunt didn't seem to like each other so I did a bit more investigating and…" He grimaced. "I found a cupboard in the girl's closet with nail marks on the inside. Which is pretty obviously some messed up parenting."

"You think the aunt would lock her in there?"

Sam nodded, and Dean's eyebrows rose. "She wasn't even sad that the girl was gone. Just went on and on about all of the paperwork and legal complications, and how she wondered if the girl's inheritance would get passed to her or some other family member." With a shake of his head, anger flashed through Sam's eyes.

"And you're sure she's human?"

"She's human alright, just a horrible person."

Dean digested this with disgust. "It's freaky how brutal we can be sometimes." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Cass's eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"What I want to know," Sam continued, "is how you knew?"

"Knew what?"

Sam gave him a look. "You got a five-second glance at the lady in the morgue and knew automatically that something was up with her. How?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I didn't know. I guessed. It was a lucky guess."

"An extremely lucky guess. There's a hunter's instinct, Dean, and then there's-"

"Look, man," Dean interrupted. "I don't know. She just seemed shifty. That's all."

The red haired waitress came up to the table again with a smile and two hamburgers. "Here's your orders, sirs." She set down the food and walked off with another glance at the ever-oblivious Castiel, who picked up his burger. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Could she be more obvious."

"What?"

"Never mind." Dean cleared his throat and looked down at the hamburger. He wasn't really hungry. Like, he wouldn't mind tasting it, but… He pushed the food in Sam's direction. "You want this?"

"You're not hungry?"

"Eh." He shrugged. "I'll eat something later, probably."

Sam nodded and picked up the burger. It wasn't atrociously large, or the sort that looked like a heart attack waiting to happen, but Dean was still surprised he said yes. He must be starving. Then again, they'd kind of skimped on breakfast. And lunch. Dean frowned.

Why wasn't he hungry? Shouldn't he be hungry?

Dean pushed the thought away to focus on the problem at hand. "So do you think the woman is involved with the demon thing?"

Sam shrugged and took another bite. "No idea. No sulfur smells at her house, though. Then again, I had to leave kind of quick. She was meeting with some people at a carnival or something."

Dean frowned and toyed with the fraying edge of the table. "A carnival."

It occurred to both him and Cass at the same time. They locked eyes.

"A dark, crowded place with lots of children and minimal supervision and our creepy aunt woman is hanging out there."

"What are you guys talking about?"

Cass set down his burger. "That is exactly where I would go if I was a demon."  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A mirror maze. How suitably disturbing.

Castiel edged into the maze through the back door when the worker's back was turned, and shut the door behind him. It was dark but for the occasional flash of light reflecting from who knew where. It was very late and most of the guests had gone home.

Now they just had to wait for the demon.

He'd already gone through two haunted houses. Sam and Dean were split up as well, looking for the abomination. They'd meet up inside this maze in… twenty minutes, was it now?

He tucked his hands into his jean pockets and leaned around a corner. Silence.

He flicked on the flashlight Dean gave him, and, instantly, the light reflected off of various walls, illuminating his reflection. Mirror mazes, Castiel decided, were not his favorite thing. He cocked his head at himself in the mirror, and, on reflex, his hand drifted up to touch the base of his neck just beneath the edge of his shirt. He could feel the loss. Right there. The necklace scar seemed very obvious in the drastic light. He'd never had scars before. He would continue to get scars now.

Castiel dropped his hand with a frown.

This was not getting any easier. Not at all. He still felt vaguely guilty about coming along on this little adventure. Not only was he human, he was a remarkably useless one. He should leave. Before he messed anything else up. Sam and Dean's patience would only last so long. Never had he had to consider that a demon (just some little low life) would be able to stop him. It could control him. He could be possessed now. That was a thing that could happen.

He shook away his thoughts and continued down through the maze. He was nearing the front when a soft sniffing met his ears. He paused.

What was that?

"Hello?" he said quietly.

The snuffling stopped. Someone stood up in the darkness, and Cass's shined light upon her. A red-haired girl wiped her eyes, and Castiel tensed. What was she doing here all alone? This was not a safe place for a child right now. "What are you doing in here?" he asked gently.

The girl sniffed. "Got lost."

Compassion. That was a new thing too.

He came closer, adopted a kind smile, and crouched a bit so that he did not loom over her. "Are your parents here?"

She shook her head. "My aunty takes care of me. I don't know where she went."

Another aunt?

"Does your aunt happen to be have blonde hair and another niece?"

"My sister is on a trip." the girl said with innocent, wide eyes. "She's going to school for a long time."

Castiel frowned. So it was the same aunt. She didn't tell the girl her sister was dead? Was it normal to lie to children about such important things?

More importantly, how did they miss the fact that the aunt had another niece?

"Alright. I'm going to take you out of here. There's a demon who likes to hurt children running loose. Some friends of mine and me are going to catch it."

The girl's eyes went wide. "A-a demon?"

Castiel nodded gravely. "We'll keep you safe. Come on." He extended a hand, and when the little girl took it, her tiny hand was nearly swallowed by his own. He paused, realizing he had to actually figure out how to get out of here. He couldn't just appear outside.

He rolled his eyes at himself (he did a lot of that lately). Honestly, you would think he'd stop forgetting by now.

With a flashlight in one hand, a gun in his pants, and the little girl clinging to his other hand, Castiel navigated the maze. They were nearing the front when a loud slam caused to the little girl to shriek and grab tightly to Castiel's pant leg. He debated for a second between the flashlight and the gun and went for the gun. He cocked it (and realized suddenly he had no idea if he knew how to hit something with this) and shoved the flashlight into his pocket for now.

"Is that the demon?"

"Shh, stay behind me." He pushed her back. He could feel her trembling and crouched to whisper in her ear. "If I say to run, run, okay?"

Little girl nodded seriously. "Okay."

"What's your name?"

"Piper."  
"That's a beautiful name, Piper."

A door banged open and several sets of footsteps came thundering toward them. Wonderful. Castiel griped the girl's shoulders tightly. "Hide."

She disappeared around a corner just as Sam and Dean rounded another corner. They were in a more open part of the maze, with enough room to move about comfortably. Their reflections made the room seem eternally large. "Hell-aunt is right behind us!" Sam shouted. He tossed Cass something. "Do it here."

Instantly, Castiel set to work. "Hell-aunt?"

"Demon possessed her," Dean answered. He looked a little dazed. He frowned thoughtfully. "She was morally weak."

"Dean found her," Sam added, cocking his gun. "Somehow." He gave Dean a pointed look that clearly said you will explain that later, but Dean just looked away.

Castiel watched the exchange with a frown, but quickly got to work. Dean was being strange lately.

There was no time to think about that. Panic arched through him, and Cass forced himself to breath. It was just one demon. He'd faced millions. Not as a powerless human, you haven't. "There is a child here," he said in a low voice to Dean, who was looking with wides eyes toward the hallway the 'hell-aunt', as they'd dubbed, was supposed to come down.

"What?" Dean hissed, his drifting attention suddenly sharp on Cass.

"There were two nieces. The other girl is back there."

Dean blinked, and Castiel could almost see the gears whirring behind his eyes. "How the heck did we not know this?"

Castiel shrugged a bit helplessly, which only made Dean roll his eyes. "Okay," Dean grunted. "Okay. We'll hold hell-aunt back while you get the kid out of here."

Cass nodded. This was the most logical course of action. As he approached her hiding place, the little girl peeked an eye around a corner, and he smiled at her in a way he hoped was reassuring. "Come with me."

He took her hand and was about to lead her back when suddenly his throat closed in on itself. He gagged and fell to his knees. The demon was here. Run, he mouthed at the girl. He shoved her back. But she was rooted in place, eyes wide and terrified.

Behind him, Dean Winchester shouted something profane. "Holy sh- what the heck are you? Let go of him!"

The demon laughed as she stepped into to the room. "Seriously?"

The pressure on Castiel's throat lessened, and he gulped in air eagerly. At his side, the little girl clung to him, and he tried to push her back. He wasn't fast enough. He couldn't get her out of here.

"Auntie?" Piper whimpered.

"Believe me," Dean snapped. "That thing isn't your aunt." He turned to the demon. "You are one ugly friggin' demon."

The demon smirked and cocked her head. Her immaculate hair and makeup just made the image worse. "Oh wonderful, you've got a little one."

Piper gripped Castiel tighter, and he struggled to his feet. Suddenly, Piper was ripped from his hands. She screamed as she flew across the room, only to dangle in the air in front of the demon. The girl gulped and sobbed, and the demon stared at her critically.

"Your aunt really hates you, did you know that? You are a waste of space. Both you and your bratty little sister. She's not even protesting. Not even if I do… this."

Piper flipped upside down and was shaken up and down quickly like a little toy doll. The girl sobbed and screamed and cried out when she evidently bit her tongue.

Castiel felt sick.

To the left, Sam raised a gun and shot the demon in the foot. The sound was deafening in the close quarters and glass shattered. The shot obviously had not harmed the demon, but she paused and sighed irritably.

"Honestly…"

They stepped backward. The demon followed. "How idiotic." And another step. "can you be?"

Piper suddenly dropped from the air, and Dean jumped forward with an almost inhuman speed to catch her before her head hit the floor.

At the same time, the demon realized what she'd fallen for. She'd stepped into a demon trap painted on the floor. As planned.

Demons were many things. Being observant was not one of those things.

Dean smirked. His eyes flickered around the woman, not quite looking at her. "Not as idiotic as you."

Instantly, Sam started reciting the exorcism.

"Go to hell, freak," Dean spat. He dragged Piper away from the circle. Not to his surprise, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Instantly, she untangled herself from Dean and ran into Castiel. Her little arms wrapped around him, and he picked her up.

As the Latin recitation reached its pinnacle, the demon screamed and suddenly began to laugh, long and loud.

No.

"No!"

Before anyone could stop her, the demon reached up and snapped its own neck. The crack seemed horribly loud, and Piper only sobbed harder. A child shouldn't see this. Ever.

Castiel backed up around the corner and started running toward the car, Piper clinging to his chest. Even so, he wasn't far enough to block the sound of the aunt's body falling to the floor like a piece of meat when the demon finally fled to hell where it belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I am mostly finished with this story and thought I might as well start posting. Hope you enjoyed so far. If you could leave me a little note about what you think, I would love to hear from you!


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